


Sometimes

by Saberin



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9463850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saberin/pseuds/Saberin
Summary: Sometimes she says the words you want to hear





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday myon! For hideki, bc i owe him many nicomakis.

She is soft at unexpected moments. Sometimes she says the words you want to hear.

Your first impression of her _sucks,_ you never questioned why there is disdain for somebody you barely knew. Her talent irks you, you hate the way her fingers dance across the piano, the confident pose, the delight. You hate how she enjoys it; and how you never.

She gives you the look of disinterest when you gathered everyone in the idol club room before starting on your lecture of idols. Not that anyone has ever, even when they do its momentarily. You think about how your precious club member left you one by one and wonder if they will do the same.

Maki gives you the reaction you half expected to see, discontent, bored and every other expression along those lines. Nearly always.

Your disdain for her creeps back even as you try to shut it away.  


.  


The piano room is an unusually quiet place for a room which is supposed to sing. You find yourself walking on the corridors near the piano room on evenings, late so that nobody catches you, and hear the songs Maki delivers with ease. It is not like you don’t _recognize_ talent, you know talent when you see one.

A distasteful chord rings through, almost bitter. It resolves and you laugh at how it’s almost the embodiment of the pianist herself.

You see her through the windows, relishing in the music she creates for herself alone. And you hate how you never, your music is for others. Nearly always.

You catch her smiling at herself, fingers smoothing the creases on the scores. A rare content expression and a gentle smile.

Sometimes she is soft.  


.  


And then one day she holds out an umbrella for you when it’s raining; you remember how you used to give out flyers in the rain, how everyone scuttles for shelter instead and the little loneliness creeps back.

The relentless rain pours, you are fretting over how to get home on time to cook for your siblings, and briefly considers tossing yourself out in the rain. A two kilometre dash, you think you could take it.

The rain wets your shoes the moment you take the first step out, the bravado in you dies as the wind picks it up, swallowing it in a gust. You feel the rain splattering on your cheeks.

And then one day she holds out an umbrella for you. The rain stops and you feel unexpected bodily warmth.

“Want to share the umbrella?” Maki says, her eyes on somewhere distant like the first time you saw her. You give her a look of surprise which she returns with a nonchalant one.

“Well?” She asks once more, concern a little more evident.

Sometimes she says the words you want to hear.  


.  


The walk home is almost a torture; you find yourself stepping on her feet and vice versa as if the height difference isn’t enough to piss you off. Heavy rain shuts out the rest of the world and you hear her breathing almost too clearly.

“Stop stepping on me!”

“Well it’s not like _I did it on purpose!”_ You huff out, “You could just walk away or something if this is irritating you so much!”

You notice how wet her shoulder is and guilt nibbles at you. She looks on the verge of saying something before deciding against. She holds you by the cardigan as she stomps away pulling you along.

“It’s not like _I could leave you out here in the rain!”_ You hear her yell in a two-people space out in the grey.

Your disdain for her creeps back even as you try to shut it away. You hate vulnerable you are when she catches you.  


* * *

 

  
She is soft at unexpected moments. Sometimes she says the words you want to hear.

You can’t remember when it was when you developed the slightest bit of positive feelings for this girl two years younger than you. You can’t seem to remember the details; the progression is so slight you barely notice.

You do remember catching her out at the veranda in her obnoxiously huge villa, in a sleepover that she didn’t really participate in.

She almost looks like she is brooding, a can of coffee in hand while the rest of the villa sleeps. The moon shines on her like she is a star you’re supposed to go to, you follow it anyway and catches her sigh.

“Wha-”

And then one day she talks about how she feels on a three am night, in a roundabout way you nearly miss the point of the conversation.  

“Sometimes I wonder what else can I do besides writing music for them?” She says, all the while drinking off the can. “Well not like I’m worried about the live or anything.”

You giggle a bit at how very _adult-like_ she is.

The big red circled date on your phone calendar does nothing to ease both your worries, the training camp seemed like a disaster so far.

And even as the need to sleep attacks you (you just wanted to use the washroom), the idle chat between you and her seems to be never ending, you somehow manage to decipher all her contradicting statements.

“Nico-chan,” She calls your name softly, “Thank you for listening.”

Sometimes she is gentle like that.

You can’t remember when it was when you developed the slightest bit of positive feelings for this girl two years younger than you.  


.  


You can’t seem to remember the details; the progression is so slight you barely notice.

Your first official fight with her is over something stupid, like any other little quarrels you get into. She has this prickly personality you can’t seem to get over and it irritates you to no end.

All because you forgot about the study date that is meant for you. She ignores you for three days, you hate the way you have to wait for her texts.

The corridors to the first years’ class is nothing but familiar, you stand outside her class apprehensively after school on the fourth and chickens out when you see her making the way out of the class with the two first years.

She ignores you for the first time when you walk up to her during practices on the rooftop.

Nozomi gets her hold on you and the rest of the practice is a blur.

You can’t seem to remember the details; the progression is so slight you barely notice. A twinge of pain and a bit of longing. You feel small stabs on your chest.

Your disdain for her creeps back even as you try to shut it away. You hate vulnerable you are when she catches you glancing at her direction.  


.  


It is a spontaneous decision, but reckless doesn’t mean that it isn’t any good, at least according to Nozomi. Your friend pushes you towards Maki at the split road where the rest of the muse members each leave their own way, you silently thank Nozomi for the little encouragement you need.

“You should be going in that other direction,” She heaves out and holds her bag against her chest.

“Hey,” You pick up speed to walk alongside her, “Maki-chan!”  She does a comical doubletake and nearly drops her school bag. The silence almost kills.

She waits for you to say something before casting you a disappointing look and moving away once more.

“I’m sorry okay!” You yell at the girl ten feet away from you. She stops in her tracks and gives you a sincere look.

“It’s alright.”

Sometimes she says the words you want to hear.  


* * *

 

 

You were never good with the cold, the extra cardigan you wear is proof of that. Autumn fades as fast as it arrives, the white washes the coat of orange away leaving you with nothing but craving for warmth.

Sometimes you’d feel empty on the inside, fulfilled but a little void, on days without Maki specifically.

You can’t seem to remember when Maki became somebody who is precious to you, but her red hair certainly brings colour on a white winter day.

The wind howls like a beast, you shove your hands into your coat pockets as you make your way to school.

“Nico-chan!”

And then one day she appears to fill up the rest of you that feels hollow, reigniting your love for life or something, if you must describe it.

She squishes your face with both her palms and looks at you with concern. Your trapped vision glance over every detail about her face. How Maki’s eyes are like, her nose, her mouth.

“You look really cold,” She concludes.

“Well I don’t look exactly _warm am I?”_ You huff, slapping your own palms on her face. On skin that is so much warmer than yours. “My hands are frozen!”

“Wha-”

“I’m _absolutely freezing thank you doctor!”_ She laughs a little too loudly at your statement.

And then she holds your hands in hers the next moment, rubbing them together as she looks at you with cheeks as red as her hair.

“Better?” She whispers.

Sometimes she makes you feel too warm on the inside.  


.  


Your first kiss isn’t what you expected, not like this. You feel yourself burn up anyway, worse than the time you rode a ferris wheel for the first time with Maki.

“Wha-” You touch your lips in shock.

The graduation cert rolls off your hand and you don’t know if you’re the one crying or she is. Your vision blurs until all you could see is red and pink, the colours of spring and her.

You are glad for the privacy the school backyard provides as you sink into her embrace.

“You know, shouldn’t you ask me out or something before kissing me?” You whisper into her neck, your arms holding her snugly.

“I-I…” Maki chokes. You glance over every detail on her face, except this time her eyes are wet.

“Well?” You wipe your tears on the cardigan she gave you for your birthday and laugh at the girl two years younger than you. “Are you going to say it?”

“I l-love you?” She asks, “Or? Will you be my girlfriend?”

Sometimes she says the words you want to hear.

Sometimes she is an idiot, but you love her anyway.


End file.
